


The Perfect Recipe for Disaster

by izukillme



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aomine and Kise being little shits, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Midorima being Tired TM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izukillme/pseuds/izukillme
Summary: It was cute the first couple of times. But it justkept happening, and now Midorima wanted to punch something.It should be noted that Midorima did not very often feel the urge to punch things.OR,- Aomine and Kise like to overdo the PDA,- Midorima is Tired,- and Kise is a devious bastardaka, the perfect recipe for disaster!
Relationships: Aomine Daiki/Kise Ryouta, Kagami Taiga/Midorima Shintarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	The Perfect Recipe for Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> im not sorry about any of this.  
> also the boys are all 19, in first year of college, bc i dont feel comfy writing implied scenes for minors  
> a dash of midokaga because I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

“ _Yosh!_ ” Kise screamed, dunking the ball into the basket. As he landed, face flushed with exertion, Aomine ran up to him with a grin.

“That was amazing, babe!”

Kise’s face turned redder, and he looked away. Aomine smiled wider and pulled Kise into a passionate kiss, which the blond reciprocated with equal vigour.

Midorima cleared his throat as loudly as he could. There was no response from the kissing couple, and he could almost _feel_ the pitying glances being cast his way by the opposing team, made up of Kagami, Kuroko and Akashi. (Murasakibara, whose arm was still healing, was all too happy to skip out on the weekly games that the Teikō group had.)

Midorima would admit, it had been cute the first couple of times. Even _he_ had felt a little flutter in his stomach as Kise dipped Aomine like a bride after one of those formless shots, kissing him as if it was something out of a romance movie. But it just _kept happening!_ With the sheer amount of making out that was going on, Midorima swore that they were this close to being conjoined at the lips. 

And oh, the _mushiness._ Aomine would give Kise that gooey-gooey look, with his eyes practically melting at the sight of the blond—and Kise wasn’t much better either, draping himself all over Aomine every time they were together. Fates help him, but Midorima never wanted to see Aomine Daiki being soft ever again. Emphasis on the ever.

Midorima cleared his throat once more, praying to every god he knew that Kise and Aomine would _pull apart,_ damn it. 

And miracle of miracles, it happened. Aomine ripped his mouth away from Kise’s, tilting his head at Midorima in abject confusion. Midorima gulped, a sense of foreboding washing over him for some strange reason.

“Oi, Midorima, you got a cold or somethin’? You've been clearin’ that throat for a while now,” Aomine informed him rather coolly. 

Midorima choked, bending double as a fit of true coughs overcame him. He thought he heard a couple of snickers coming from where Kuroko and the rest were, and tried to shoot a glare their way, but failed miserably. As he straightened up, finally recovering, his eyes caught Aomine and Kise—yet again glued to each other like there was no tomorrow.

Midorima buried his face in his hands and tried not to cry. 

Finally, gloriously, they pulled apart, and Aomine called for the ball. The game began again, and this time Midorima did his very best to monopolise the play, _just_ so he wouldn’t have to see Aomine and Kise all over each other again. He knew it sounded extreme, but you weren’t there. You didn’t see how they were constantly rubbing up against each other, how the simplest of plays could turn into an innuendo that would have even crude Haizaki blushing.

Sadly, the universe seemed to have it in for him today. It figured, he thought morosely; Cancers were ranked eleventh today, only ahead of Libras like Murasakibara. Not having the ball led to Aomine and Kise forgetting they were in a game, and resuming their lip-lock, leaving Midorima to play what was virtually a one-on-three. 

He lost the next couple of games, of course. One-on-three, even with his ability to shoot, was too much, and he’d never been particularly good at steals anyway. Still, it grated on his nerves, and even the shy smile that Kagami shot him, promising a few clandestine kisses later, didn’t help very much.

Eventually, the sun began to sink in the sky, and Akashi suggested that they call it a day, a glimmer of pity in his warm crimson eyes as they passed over Midorima. The bespectacled boy breathed a sigh of relief—at _last,_ it was over.

“Well, that was great!” Kise cried, stretching. Midorima shot him a poisonous glare that went completely unnoticed. “I had an awesome time!”

“Same here,” Aomine said with a little smirk, his eyes glued to the strip of skin exposed by Kise raising his arms above his head. Midorima looked away, his stomach churning a little.

An arm curled around his waist, then, and a head pressed itself into his shoulder. The spikiness of the hair felt oddly familiar, as did the soft warmth of the body.

 _Kagami._ Midorima relaxed just a little, allowing himself to melt into his boyfriend slightly. Though they were out of the closet, they were nowhere near as touchy-feely as Kise and Aomine (and by God, was Midorima thankful for it). Speaking of the duo, Aomine had his head buried in Kise’s neck, allowing the blond to pat his hair and cosset him.

Kagami made puking noises, and Midorima resisted the urge to laugh. His boyfriend could be so cute sometimes. With some difficulty, he dragged his eyes away from Kagami and up to Akashi and Kuroko, who were watching the two couples with varying levels of disgust and… was that _envy_ in Akashi’s eyes? 

Midorima allowed a little smirk to curl his mouth. It wasn’t every day that you could make Akashi Seijūrō jealous. Maybe Aomine and Kise’s PDA wasn’t so bad, he thought, turning his head to look at the other two—

 _Oh,_ but hadn’t they ever heard of public decency?! 

Midorima whipped his head back around, shifting so he could bury his face in the shorter Kagami’s shoulder. No more sight for him today—Kagami could carry him home. He wouldn’t risk looking up and seeing Aomine and Kise attempting to devour each other.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled, his voice muffled into Kagami’s shoulder. Kagami nodded, slipping his arm around Midorima’s waist and dragging him along, calling out a casual, “See ya!” to the others as they left. 

Midorima had never been gladder that Kagami had taken so much trouble to intimately understand him.

* * *

Fate, apparently, _really_ hated Midorima Shintarou. First Oha-Asa ranked Cancers _twelfth,_ then it was raining so hard that he couldn’t go out to get his lucky item (a lion), and now—

And now _this._ Midorima’s eye twitched as he looked at the jersey: _Tōō, #5._ How had that even ended up in his bag?! Hands shaking in irritation, he dialled Aomine’s number.

“Hello?” said a lazy, drawling voice that was _definitely_ not Aomine.

 _Oh, God._ Midorima bit his tongue to stop himself from doubling over and throwing up because if Kise was sleeping at Aomine’s place that meant— _t_ _hings_ that he definitely did not want to think about.

“Kise,” he said as curtly as he could. “Aomine’s jersey somehow made its way into my bag. One of you needs to come by and pick it up.”

“Sorry,” Kise yawned, “but no can do, Midorimacchi. Neither of us can drive and it’s raining way too hard to walk. You’re gonna have to come here.”

Midorima gripped the phone in his hand tighter than ever and cursed the fact that he knew how to drive.

Fifteen minutes later, having driven his mother’s Nissan through the pouring rain, he stood in front of Aomine’s house with a black umbrella open over his head and the jersey tucked under his arm, half-hoping that no one would answer the door when he knocked. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand tentatively, giving a single, sharp rap to the wood and stepping away.

 _Five…_ he counted down, praying that he’d be able to bolt. _Four, three… two—_

_God damn it._

Midorima rarely ever swore, even in his head, but he thought this warranted it. There was a soft sound of the door clicking open, and then it swung free, revealing a blue, tousled head looking blearily up at him.

“Hey, Midorima,” Aomine said with a lazy smile. “I think I’ll take that, thanks.”  
He reached out a hand to grab the jersey, and Midorima gladly handed it to him. As he did, however, he had the misfortune of his eyes falling directly upon Aomine—who was wearing nothing but boxers. Midorima bit his tongue as hard as he could to suppress a scream.

That was when a sleepy voice asked from behind Aomine, “Aominecchi, is that Midori— _yawn_ —Midorimacchi?”

Midorima squinted, hoping against hope that it wasn’t who he thought it was. But indeed, that was Kise, emerging from the dark hallway into the foyer to rest his head on Aomine’s shoulder.

“Midorimacchi!” Kise beamed, entirely too cheerful for someone who had been half-asleep mere moments ago. Midorima just grunted in response, decidedly avoiding Kise’s eyes.

“Come on, Midorimacchi, don’t be like that,” Kise whined, pushing his way past Aomine to get to Midorima, who stepped back, his eyes involuntarily falling to Kise’s clothes— 

Kise’s _cloth._ Because the blond was wearing nothing other than a form-fitting white T-shirt, hickeys trailing over his collarbones and down under the shirt. The top hit his mid-thighs despite clinging to his powerful frame—so it was Aomine’s then, Midorima thought faintly.

Then he passed out, ignoring the shocked scream of, “Midorima!” and the snickering of Kise in the background.

* * *

Midorima awoke to a person leaning over him, wearing a devious smirk, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He groaned softly as the memories of that morning flooded back into his head—

Then he froze and sat up, his lips moving in silent prayer. To his credit, Kise moved back just in time to avoid being smacked, but Midorima didn’t notice, too caught up in his horror.

_Please, please don’t let that have happened. It was all a dream, right? All a dream?_

Midorima turned, grabbing Kise by the shoulders and looking at him closely.

“Tell me this morning didn’t happen,” he said pleadingly. Kise tilted his head, as innocent as innocent could get, eyes wide with worry.

“I have no idea what you mean, Midorimacchi. You came to give Aominecchi’s jersey back, and then you just passed out. Are you okay?” 

Midorima breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the pillows.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered. 

It was just as well that he didn’t notice the fact that Kise was wearing a turtleneck sweater despite the humidity of the day, or that the blond had hurriedly brushed away a plastic wrapper from the bed before he could lay eyes on it.

**Author's Note:**

> poor midorima LMAO someone save him  
> i did this as a request for a friend, over on my [writing blog](https://cereatess.tumblr.com/)! feel free to send me things (SFW only tho!)  
> comments make a blob happy~


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